


The Temptation of Zin-Azshari

by Buntheridon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, I usually find a way, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Canon Compliant, Unhealthy Relationships, all sorts of fetishizing especially of illidan, clearly not a one-shot, his boner for her is totally canon tho, is this what caused the sundering, not sure if one-shot, possible eventual smut if I find a way, toying with magic addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: What could have happened between Illidan Stormrage and Queen Azshara all those thousands of years ago...Disclaimer! A sort of a canon deviation in the sense that while Illidan is in Azshara’s court playing the loyal subject the Kaldorei Resistance has a base nearby. Or something. I’m lazy, just wanted them all here (or Tyrande, for this fic). Not following lore but playing with it. I haven’t read War of the Ancients.Situated before the Sundering and before the finding of the Demon Soul. You know me (I mean,ifyou do), I just want to smash these dolls together and have fun. That being said, I still do try my best with the material I have and it’s not completely for the lolz. More like for the smutz amirite xD
Relationships: Illidan Stormrage/Queen Azshara
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

_He had dared to refuse her._

Rejection was a new, almost a refreshing sensation. She imagined the handsome mage must have misunderstood the situation, or been coy around his queen, which she quite doubted judging by his demeanor and arrogant way of talking — modesty wasn’t unheard of among their kin but it was rare — or maybe he played some kind of a thrilling game. Queen Azshara, the most beautiful being in the elven realm, adored from the tips of her hair down to her toenails by everyone, lusted after by most out of which only few were lucky enough to get to spend time with her, let alone kiss her luscious lips or her enchanted vulva. She was voracious for attention and unconditional worship, which she loved almost more than sex or obedience. But all of these gifts were linked anyway.

None of her underlings were mighty enough to be considered her official mate, not even any of her Highborne, but she could always play with them when she felt like it.

The annoying thought didn’t let her concentrate on anything else now. Illidan Stormrage, a very skilled magic wielder and a beautiful specimen of their race, had dared to leave her rooms when his queen had not yet dismissed him. She had been in the middle of admiring his masculine posture and the Arcane and physical power he exuded. He had been born with eyes of very rare color not much unlike hers but the new fel green didn’t put her off either. His long dark silky hair that he kept loose fell on his well-formed shoulders and arms that were bare in the skimpy caster robe which revealed more than it covered. Illidan was also vain but his pride would win his vanity if there was a conflict. 

When Queen Azshara had her eye on something, eventually she got it. If not immediately then after a pleasurable seduction phase or some other type of game. Without exception everyone became hers, everyone wanted to have a taste of the _divine_ as her people perceived her. 

Did that man possess special powers or was he indeed the most titillating game she’d started in centuries? For a being with almost an infinite lifetime ahead of her she might be said to be impatient. She could wait and plan, lay a trap so cunning the prey didn’t even feel it close around it, but perhaps her position and the assured victories had ruined some of that over the years, pampered her to expect instant gratification and the cake too. 

She could always order him to submit. But that wouldn’t taste the same, no, no. She wanted him to beg for a permission to touch her, wanted that glowing sharp gaze to falter. Or better yet, she wanted him to hunt her like she were not the highest master of the Arcane but merely the most desirable woman he had set his eyes on. 

This was the humblest thought she could ever have of herself.

The eyes - well, they seemed to be part of the problem. He had remarked, with a biting edge to his voice, that he didn’t see people the same way he used to. But surely her allure was now more than her enhanced, exceptional beauty? And he must remember her looks even if he didn’t see it clearly anymore. She had granted him the permission to call her by her first name without titles, yet the infuriating man had stayed distant and unwavering, pretending not to understand her flirting. His body had reacted straightforwardly but he acted like he didn’t feel that throbbing erection under the spellwoven fabric. 

Now she had an idea - one of her future plans would, as a mere side effect, make the sorcerer yearn for her if not for the exact reasons she wanted but close enough for it to be so very satisfying. She had already restricted the use of the Well’s powers. She was about to deny it altogether, even from her Highborne. They’d all be thirsty for a drop or two of any kind of magic.

And then she would toy with his needs.

Making sure the doors to her personal chambers were locked and secured by spells Azshara wove an illusion in the air, a three-dimensional Arcane play of puppets, where an image of Illidan was in front of her, naked, kneeling on the left leg, his thick erection there like an offering to his sovereign. She knew what he looked like under the robes, there was little in her realm that she hadn’t spied during the years for her entertainment or tactical reasons. 

She would permit him to rise and would release a portion of her hidden powers as an aura he would definitely feel even if his eyes had been burned away by the Great One. He would gasp like a drowning person finally reaching the surface and she’d feel his blood starting to circulate faster, his desire rising closer to completion but he would discipline himself and answer with his own Arcane power. Before skin would be against skin their auras would merge intimately, throbbing like living entities inside one another.

The Queen sighed in frustration and snapped the fantasy off. Lower races might practice self-pleasuring but she was above that. Why would she need to fondle herself like a lonely kitchen maid, she could get anyone to satisfy her instead. Almost anyone. She wanted Illidan now, but she would have to wait, and using someone less desirable to quell the thirst was out of the question. That would be admitting defeat.

No matter. She had work to do in the meantime.

****

Illidan Stormrage marched further away from the Queen’s palace with angry, forced strides. What he had seen had shaken him. Her powers were unimaginably vaster than anyone had thought and it almost frightened him. She’d been able to hide them from the world, it seemed, with her aesthetic makeovers and intricate spells no-one else knew of. Now that his sight was altered, his physical eyes burned off but his magical detection ever higher, he had seen her aura grow around her like a massive dome of pure Arcane. No-one in the whole of Azeroth wielded that kind of power.

And there was something else too, but he wasn’t sure about it yet. It wasn’t demonic, _that_ he would recognize anywhere now. Something in her essence that drew him to her like a magnet.

Grunting in a very multifaceted frustration he checked that there were no others around the palace yard before adjusting his aching erection that was shielded only by his enchanted silk pants and the thin hem of the robe. What had that flirting been all about, then? Did his Queen, the mightiest creature he had ever met - not counting Sargeras - truly desire him, in her eyes surely nothing but a mediocre subject, or was that part of some bigger goal she wanted to achieve? First he’d been hesitant purely of surprise and disbelief but then his cursed pride had kicked in and had made him play oblivious and all too polite, dodging her insinuations with a smile. He saw how that infuriated Azshara - he was forever going to call her by her first name in his mind now that she’d given him the rare permission - and that in turn made him laugh and swell in pride inwardly. 

Now he regretted it - not with his reason but with the swollen body part that had taken control and made him ache all over. 

Yet he knew it would be a detrimental decision to surrender himself as her toy. She’d play with him as long as she found him entertaining and he’d seen how fast she got bored. Most of her lovers were still alive and in the court but some had met a grim end and some had been relocated far away from the palace forever. Knowing his own temper very well he was aware it would end in a total disaster. But in some ways it would be so much worse to deny her indefinitely. Sooner or later he’d have to give in or disappear very permanently to prevent that from happening.

_Think of those hips, those luscious curves, her immeasurable magic licking your soul when you unite with her,_ whispered the hunger inside him. He growled and started to run. He needed to smash something right now and the woods nearby were the safest place to explode.

Tyrande found him there, at the end of a long row of spell-broken, ripped trees. He’d ran so far that he was out of the bounds of Zin-Azshari and near the Resistance’s secret base.

“What ever has the forest done to you to deserve this, Illidan? What is the matter? I thought you were in the court plotting something for the Legion or perhaps for your own benefit.”

He had loved her for ages, even after she had chosen his pompous brother as an exclusive partner. The knowledge of them together had tortured him for long, but now, right at this moment he realized he felt it no more. Had the Queen’s sudden interest in him really cured him of his broken heart or was it merely a distraction, a sure-fire way of making him forget deeper feelings by playing through his magic addiction and vanity? The Queen must be aware of everything that happens in her realm, and his one-sided devotion to the priestess wasn’t a secret. But now, now he could feel only mild annoyance towards her.

“Do you care? As I recall you want to shut down the Well altogether, depriving us of its power. How about you leave me to suffer in peace.” He’d always been courteous towards her, even when seething jealousy and rage. But right now... he didn’t care in the slightest. It felt exhilarating.

The hurt surprise on Tyrande’s face was so satisfying he nearly grinned at her. 

“I could heal you, if you needed it. But maybe the demonic taint is already too strong in you.”

“This has nothing to do with it.”

Despite his attitude and her suspicions the priestess pressed her palm on his arm to feel what ailed him. Her eyebrows furrowed and after a moment she withdrew her hand like it was burning, a rosy tint rising on her cheeks.

“I thought it was merely thirst for... magic”, she mumbled. Illidan studied her face and saw she knew his aching desire wasn’t for her. He would never have believed it if someone said he’d one day stop yearning for his brother’s beloved. Never had he believed to take pleasure in her discomfiture either, but there you have it. He knew he couldn’t hope to see true disappointment in her, she had made clear she only ever loved Malfurion, yet the knowledge of both of the twins adoring her must have gratified her in some measure. He took what scraps he could get.

“Oh, but it _is._ The greatest source of magic after the Well itself.”

“You… cannot be serious.”

“I am not. But she is.”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Illidan’s offensive attitude the priestess of Elune healed his most acute magic addiction as best she could. It wasn’t much but she saw it as her duty nonetheless.

“How could you even consider such a thing? You know she’s not to be trusted.”

“Does it look like I have a choice? Have you forgotten who she is? I’m as good as doomed whether I refused or submitted. Only something like the end of the world would stop Azshara from claiming what she wants.” He didn’t suppress the grin anymore, lecherous and self-satisfied, knowing it would irritate Tyrande further to see he actually, in part, enjoyed being a chosen one. No-one dared to use the Queen’s first name without the title and he had just done that like they already were intimately acquainted. It made the priestess flinch but she didn’t comment on it.

“Don’t exaggerate. I’m sure you can come up with a reason to leave the city.” Her hands travelled over his tattooed muscles sending Nature healing deeper into his body, at the same time feeling his persistent lust like a scorching heatwave. She had to stop eventually, cheeks red from the contagious sensation. 

“Oh, I don’t think I will.” Illidan stood up from the felled tree trunk he had been sitting on, his tall frame towering over her, brushed the twigs and leaves off his robes and squared his shoulders. He could see in the color surrounding her form how his need was affecting her and it gave him a tiny tingle of satisfaction. The bulge under his silk robes was ever visible and Tyrande averted her eyes. 

“Suit yourself. We won’t be there to save you if you ruin everything now. It was your choice to stay there in the first place.”

“I don’t think she knows about the camp. Not yet, at least. She seems to be concentrating on her own big plans, whatever those are.” He lowered his voice for emphasis. “And I don’t think she would share those even as pillow talk.”

“Don’t be tasteless. I’m leaving.”

“I’ll send for you if there’s anything the Resistance can do.” She didn’t answer, already out of his sight – spectral or otherwise. 

_ My brother might get some action tonight,  _ Illidan grinned. Thinking about those two together felt surprisingly painless and insignificant.

He huffed, the thirst having been distracted for a moment but now rising again. He really didn’t have much choice. But then again, on some level it felt thrilling, even gratifying to be the Queen’s most wanted. Even if he knew he would eventually have to bend, he would fight it for his pride, vanity and honor – and to make her desire him more.

It was nearly midnight. Trying to sleep would be useless, he would just toss about in his sheets throughout the night in this torture. 

So be it. He had endured so far and it wasn’t like pain was something new to him.

The absence of something was different from direct pain, however. When he stepped inside the city proper his soul was screaming for her. Stubborn as ever he forced his feet to walk to his lodgings and away from the palace. Sweat gleaming on his arms and forehead the dark-haired sorcerer bolted and barricaded the front door to his residence from inside, leaning on it, breathing erratically. He pulled the robe off over his head and squeezed his erection through the silk pants a bit too hard, groaning. At least some part of the torment would be easy to deal with even if it wouldn’t give him what he craved, not even close.

_ “No wonder she likes you. You are quite the specimen.” _

In a burst of violent Arcane and fel-tattooed limbs Illidan had pinned the intruder against the opposite wall by the throat. It was the Queen’s closest handmaiden, Lady Vashj. He had heard her being so devoted to Azshara she copied her looks and indeed she was an extremely beautiful Highborne elf. No-one ever rivalled the Queen in beauty and charm, but Vashj was a fairly good picture of her. Or so he remembered, not seeing the same way anymore as he used to.

“What do you want? I imagined a handmaiden would have the discretion to leave when someone needs privacy. Or in this case,  _ not enter at all.” _ He was speaking through his clenched teeth, a hissing angry whisper, his nerves so high strung he felt like smashing the woman’s face through the wall. He was pressed against her, his cock precisely between her thighs. Realizing this he loosened his grip, backed off and flumped on a cushioned divan.

“You should watch your tongue, Illidan Stormrage. I have the ear of our Queen.” She didn’t seem shaken, and tidied her flimsy garments only for show. Illidan could feel her temperature rising, smell her arousal peak.

“Only her ear? I can beat that.”

The handmaiden made a little disapproving noise and twirled her luscious hair around her fingers. If the green eye sockets under the blindfold didn’t see expressions her teasing smile was wasted. “I will pretend I didn’t understand that, otherwise she would have you beheaded.”

“I don’t think so. She seemed to like my head attached to my body. Say whatever you came here for and leave me. I have things to take care of as you can see.” He didn’t ever try to hide the erection, prominent against his thigh under the spellwoven fabric. He was sitting there legs spread, seething anger and lust and terrible need for magic. Vashj licked her lips, affected and tempted, but this gorgeous man was marked as the Queen’s property now, so she would never dare.

“As much as it would entertain me to witness such a rare sight I will indeed leave you in peace to... handle your predicament. The Queen sends her fondest regards and wants you to have this.” She placed a small glowing crystal on a table not very near him, watching keenly as it dawned on him what it was, his thirst escalating, his aura pulsating madly. 

“Mmm. Indeed. And she made me swear I make sure you know this:  _ there is more.” _ With that the handmaiden stepped backwards, eyes on the suffering sorcerer until she slid out through the backdoor she’d come from. There was an obvious omitted part in the message – that he would know just how to get his hands on more of the Well’s now forbidden magic.

By yielding.

As soon as she had disappeared from sight Illidan lunged at the crystal, grabbing it greedily and shattering it between his palms. The Arcane coursed through his mana streams, his veins, his nerves like the loveliest soothing Starlight balm on parched flesh. He felt the tension in his throat ease, his taut muscles relax. He fell back on the pillows letting the rare feeling of calm wash over him.

But the lust didn’t abate. That came as a surprise once he got over the initial bliss of not feeling the addiction anymore.  _ Well, this is going to be a problem.  _ If it wasn’t a side effect of the basic need, then Azshara truly had more hold of him than he had admitted to himself.

For once Illidan decided not to think too deeply, for this one night he would just let go. He slid his palm under the waistband of his breeches caressing over his cock slowly. There was no hurry now, the urgency had lessened, he might as well enjoy this. His mind was filled with her likeness, the shine in her moonlit eyes when she had flirted with him, the slow movement of her soft lips when she spoke. The Queen emitted such levels of magic and enchantments that when one was within her sight every move she made had more meaning than the obvious, the tone of her voice sent messages to the hidden parts of the soul. Her words became caresses or blows, or they started growing images in the mind.

Illidan pulled down the pants just enough to be able to grab his root. He conjured scented oil from thin air into his palm, matching it as well as his memory served him to the Queen’s perfume. He grunted when he started stroking himself, the ache having been there for so long and now in contrast to his momentarily relaxed body this was the last, most sensitive part to still crave release. He heard Azshara’s voice in his mind, playing with him, trying to make him bend but using only soft tactics. When he had been standing before her only his new powers had kept him from surrendering – and his cursed, blessed pride.

Without her there, without her direct influence his mind focused on the recollection of her voice, her scent, her appearance. He had heard rumors about her orgies where she made everyone delirious using nothing but her enchanted whispers, and after meeting her he believed that wholly. The curve of her hips alone would drive a weaker elf senseless with lust; her round, ample breasts held tightly and presented generously in her bone white silkweave dress distracted envoys to forget their political demands. 

Speeding up the pace of his strokes Illidan imagined how she would want him – she’d subdue him, push herself against his chest when he was down, climb on his face and make him worship her quim with his mouth all the while caressing his aura with her Arcane power. He groaned, arousal rushing into his loins like an ocean through a broken dam when he remembered her natural smell, knew what she would taste like. 

He was sure Azshara would delay his climax to the brink of torture and that thought made him do the opposite while he was still in control. He felt his sap surge and he came magnificently with a roar, spilling on his fingers, on his silk, on the divan without sparing a thought to the mess, repeating her name in a hoarse whisper.

A dark realization dawned on him just before he fell asleep. Illidan knew he could never be satisfied with another if he let the Queen touch him.


End file.
